Not actually wrong

I've visited Debbie twice this year, both times on the occasion of a trip to Sticksville for work: once was at the beginning of June, and the other was in mid-October -- just recently. And both times I mused on choices she made during the visit that triggered me to wonder if she still had some kind of romantic feelings underneath the clear outward show of Good Behavior. Back in May she had us read Walt Whitman poems back and forth to each other; in October, she selected "Our Souls at Night" as a movie to watch.

Of course it would be no surprise if she did: how do you get rid of memories like that without replacing them by some other emotion? My feelings for D now are overlaid with frustration and anxiety; my feelings for Wife, with anger and fear and disdain and disgust. But I don't feel any of those things for Debbie, and so (as I have shared freely with you) I still feel a wistfulness towards her. Why shouldn't she feel something similar?

And then about a week ago I got an email that was a little clearer. I had written her about the rest of my trip: after visiting with her for a weekend I had gone on to work in Sticksville for a week, then flew the long way home so I could spend a few vacation days with Schmidt. The visit was very low-key for a lot of reasons, but Marie visited me there (we were all three friends back in college) and we had fun sitting round the table at dinner drinking too much wine and telling funny stories. Anyway, several days later I wrote a short email to Debbie that included the following:

I always enjoy visiting you, and this time was no exception. Always you give me a chance to shift into a different gear, I’m glad to spend time with your daughter and her husband, and our time together (yours and mine) is simply good. And thank you for the movie! I’d never heard of it before we watched it, but the reviews I looked up later said all the same things we did: that it was a remarkable piece of work done in a very understated way.

Her reply, a few days later, ended as follows:

I agree that our time together while you were here was simply good.  I will be honest and say that during your last two visits, I have found my heart opening to you.  I don't mean to complicate things.  Given all the context, including my personal commitment to respecting other people's relationships, it is not something to be acted upon but simply acknowledged and enjoyed for what it is.  I just think it might diminish the little bit of awkwardness that is present in our interactions to name it.

Bingo. I'm glad to know that my sense about this hasn't been actually wrong, all this time.

It took me a couple of days to think what to say back. I didn't want to wait too long -- when someone declares her love for you, a faster reply is always better.  But I also didn't want to say the wrong thing, and I thought that was altogether too likely. In the end maybe I said too much, though I hope not. What I wrote her went like this:

Your last paragraph made me feel very happy and ... what’s the right word? As if I were snugly wrapped in a soft, warm blanket. I know what you mean. There will always be a part of my heart that is open to you, too. At the same time, you are completely right that it doesn’t have to mean anything beyond or outside of itself. We can enjoy it for what it is, exactly as we have been doing. And we don’t have to carry it anywhere that makes a mess of the “context”. I know I felt the same thing on my side, but was concerned that saying something might be unwelcome; so thank you for naming it. 

With love and metta always,

Hosea